


Tale Of The Mourning Star

by MercuryDust



Category: Original Work
Genre: Backstory, Demons, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryDust/pseuds/MercuryDust
Summary: Alastor's father leaves him with his estranged grandmother and aunt after a horrible accident. Alastor must learn to fit in to his new, unaccepting environment all while coming to terms with who and what he is.  (CW: abuse, gore, may contain generally upsetting content)





	Tale Of The Mourning Star

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are mine unless stated otherwise. Character credits will be posted at the end of the chapter if featured characters do not belong to me.  
> PLEASE NOTE: this is unfortuntately formatted incorrectly, i am still getting used to ao3 formatting. so it most likely looks like a block of text :(

### Arrival

### The air was still. It carried sorrow. Mourning. The whole forest seemed silent with sadness as the boy wept, barely able to hold onto his bag of belongings. He followed behind his father slowly, sobbing and aching. He trembled with cold, worry, and disbelief. His father was getting rid of him! Just throwing him away! The boy stopped, coughing. He could barely breathe. Tears and snot clogged his airways, causing him to hack and spit desperately. He set the bag down onto the dewy grass, continuing to cough. For the first time in hours, his crying had come to a stop. His father had been walking several feet ahead of him with little regard for his son's condition. He did not offer kindness or comfort, just an eerie silence. He walked a few more feet before realizing his son was no longer following. The man turned and approached his child, grabbing him by the face and craning his neck up to look at him. "Enough," His father said in a low growl. Haunting eyes stared down at him, a furrowed brow resting upon them. "You are too old to be crying this way. Stop your weeping and pick up your bag. We do not have much longer to go." The boy looked up at him, his face red and wet with tears. He pursed his lips and choked down his sobs, fearing his father may lay hands on him for carrying on. He and his father shared the same eyes. Haunting red and orange. Eyes that just seemed to stare through you. Eyes that seemed to know your every move. They were calculating and cold, with pupils that seemed to change shape. "Please don't make me leave!" The boy begged at last. He had been begging and pleading since his father had come to his decision. "I promise I won't cause you anymore burden! Father-" "Alastor! That is quite enough." His father barked. His look of irritation drove a sharp feeling of fear and sorrow into Alastor's heart. "You will go with your grandmother and you will do so without acting a fool. Now, pick up your bag and collect yourself." Alastor bowed his head, picking up his bag with small, trembling hands. He feared his father's wrath, but feared leaving his side even more. Alastor was nine years of age and had been living with his father since his mother's passing. He was told she died bearing him, giving up her life for his. Therefore, he had better make good use of himself. Alastor was meant to become the captain of his father's ship when he passed or stepped down. For the past few years, despite his young age, the crew had been teaching Alastor the ins and out of managing a ship. It started out with simpler tasks like tying knots and gutting fish. Then, as he grew, the tasks increased in difficulty and danger. Fishing, swimming, and how to use knives. He was quite eager to learn and excited to show his father all the tricks he had been learning, but his father seemed to be growing increasingly discontent with his current duties. His temper seemed to grow shorter and shorter with the crew. He was less present at meals, and didn't seem to listen when Alastor spoke. Alastor recalled that bored, far off look his father would get when he leaned his head into the palm of his hand. He would cross his leg and sigh, staring off into the sea or simply at walls. This continued for a whole summer. Months of distance and misery suddenly sprang into excitement. Overnight, his father's attitude changed. It scared Alastor at first, but then he joined his father in his sudden joy. He walked with the same spring in his step, the same smile on his face, and talked with the same warmth in his voice. In the evening, Alastor's father danced away into a distant corner of the ship and beckoned with a finger for Alastor to join him. Alastor obeyed, joining his father behind crates and barrels. His father then placed his hands on his shoulders and leaned down to see him eye to eye. "Gather your things," He whispered, smiling uncontrollably. "We are leaving for home." "Home?" Alastor's mirroring grin dropped. "But... This is our home? A new home?" His father nodded. enthusiastically. "Yes, yes a new home!" His voice bounced with joy. "Shall I tell the crew to gather their things as well?" Alastor turned away, attempting to peek around the crates to see if the crew was gathering their things as well. "No, no, no!" His father spoke firmly, suddenly squeezing Alastor's shoulders and forcing him to face him. "Only you and I are going to a new home. Do not tell the others about this. Do you hear me?" Alastor stared his father in the eyes. That gleeful look was gone in his father's face as well. He looked terrifyingly serious. Alastor was full of questions, but just nodded in false understanding. His father seemed to know Alastor did not truly understand, but he stood up straight anyway and took his answer as truth. "Good." Then, he turned away and leaned over the ship's side, facing outward toward the ocean. He pulled a pipe from his pocket along with a match. "Now, go gather your things." Alastor obeyed quickly, leaving from behind the crates and barrels that obscured them from the rest of the ship. He was afraid, unsure of what his father meant by a new home. Were they going to stay on land? Why couldn't the crew know? Regardless of the mystery surrounding the situation, Alastor crept into the captain's quarters where he and his father slept away from the rest of the other crew. He gathered his items into a burlap sack. Clothes, paper, a knife, some rope. Just things he figured he should take with him. There was not much to take. Alastor, as well as everyone else on the ship, lived with the bare minimum. There was no room for excess items that would simply get in the way and served no purpose. So when Alastor packed his bag, practically all his belongings fit inside the sack. He went to return to the deck when his father appeared in the door way. There was a wild look in his eyes and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His father’s hair was down. Normally, it was up in a ponytail. But now, his shiny brown hair spilled down over his shoulders and wavy strands of it hung in front of his face. Alastor thought he looked quite strange. His father’s sudden change in personality was beginning to frighten him. “Have you gathered all your things?” His father asked impatiently. “Y-yes, I have.” Alastor held the bag up, presenting it to his father who nodded approvingly. “Don’t look so afraid. You’ll love our new home. It will be much better than this place. Now, come along. We haven’t much time to waste.” Father turned on his heels and began to make his way up to the deck. He was much faster than Alastor, who made his way up to the deck a moment after him. When he got there however, he was blinded by a bright light and deafening noise. That was a week or so ago. The memory lay fresh in Alastor’s mind and it ached like a wound. The days blurred together after that. He could barely recall how he got here. He just knew that the pain never stopped, even while he slept. It was emotional and physical pain. Somewhere along these two weeks, he had lost his leg in an accident. An accident he felt he had caused, yet could barely remember. Even when he dreamt of it, he couldn’t remember what had caused his leg to detach in such a grisly manner. Alastor had come to the conclusion that the accident was his fault because his father was punishing him now. Father was punishing him by sending him away to his estranged grandmother and aunt and father didn’t offer a shred of comfort to lessen Alastor’s fear. Father did not even offer to carry him although his wooden leg hurt his knee and the belt that fastened it on chaffed his thigh. He felt like a beaten dog and he could not stop crying. But now, for the first time in days, Alastor’s crying ceased. Again, the forest was silent. It was like a funeral, or a march to a shallow grave. The forest began to thin, trees becoming fewer and fewer as they moved into the heart. Alastor began to smell smoke and cooking. He could hear voices and the faint clucking of chickens. Father said nothing, marching on. Alastor knew their journey was finally coming to an end. Alastor would be arriving at his new home shortly. They arrived in a clearing where trees were replaced by houses and the chirping of birds was replaced by the chatter of men and women. Father carried himself with authority as he entered the village while Alastor tried to hide in his shadow. A silence fell over the village’s people. Dozens of eyes followed Alastor and his Father throughout the village, whispering among themselves in disbelief and confusion. Alastor could hear snippets of conversation as he passed. “He looks just like her!” Women whispered. “What has brought him back here? Hasn’t he done enough damage?” Men asked angrily. Alastor’s fear and confusion grew, causing a pit to grow in his stomach. Who looks like who? What damage? Alastor suddenly sped up, walking as fast as he could without toppling over. He joined his father at his side, taking the bag in one hand and grabbing his father’s coat with the other. “Look! He walks on a peg!” Alastor heard a voice whisper. His face became red with embarrassment and his heart began to race fearfully. “Father-“ He began, looking to him for comfort. “Ignore them,” He said simply. “They gossip because they have never seen anyone slightly different from themselves. They will become used to you soon enough.” Alastor’s tiny fist tightened around the fabric of his father’s coat. He was relieved that his father did not shoo him away, but instead took Alastor’s hand into his own. Father’s hands were cold and calloused, damaged from years of working on a ship. Despite how unwelcoming his hand was, Alastor took great comfort in its embrace. His father’s hands matched his personality well. Cruel and uninviting, yet Alastor always felt safest in his presence. He loved his father. And he could not understand why his father did not seem to love him back. They approached a house that was similar to the others in style. Two stories, shutters, a porch. This one however, seemed newer. The paint seemed to be more vibrant and less worn from the weather. The wood of the porch was not cracked and broken with chipped paint like the others. Had his grandmother just moved to this village? As they drew near, he could see a figure move away from the window. A mere second later, the door began to open.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!! thank you for reading chapter one. It may be formatted a little rough as i copy pasted from my draft on wattpad. I’m not a professional writer, so please be kind. “Father” belongs to rothoundd on instagram. Father’s name will be revealed soon as it kinda has smth to do with the plot. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing, thank you again!


End file.
